(We Are) More Than You Think You Are
by nicnac918
Summary: A late night conversation about memories and what it means to be. Also, there's some hot chocolate. Sequel to "Intermission: Hell Hath No Fury (Like a Woman With a Mission)" Clex


Lex turned over and fluffed up his pillow a few times before lying back down and shutting his eyes again. They popped back open less than five seconds later. He looked over at the clock: 1:47. Two minutes since the last time he had looked.

Huffing an annoyed sigh, he threw back the covers, got out of bed, and put on a robe. He walked down the hallway quietly, more out of an instinctive reaction to the late hour than any real need; Conner slept like the dead and Clark hadn't gotten back from patrolling as Superman yet. Lex reached the kitchen and pulled the hot chocolate mix off of Conner and Clark's shelf of junk food. The milk was fairly easily found too, though less because its placement made any logical sense and more because of the sheer amount of space it took up: two gallons of 2% for Conner, Lex, and for use in cooking, and two gallons of whole milk for Clark to drink, usually straight from the carton. (One time, Superman had had to divert the flow of lava away from a small village and had come back overheated and with a suit covered in soot. He had changed into a pair of jeans and, still topless and sweaty, had walked into the kitchen, where Lex had been searching in vain for a late night snack, and thrown back one of the gallons like it was the Elixir of Life. Lex had been left with a dry mouth, too tight pants, and immense regrets regarding not having security cameras installed in the kitchen.) Unfortunately, the other things he needed weren't as simple to locate and Lex had to resort to opening cabinets and drawers at random.

"The saucepans are under the stove, the spoons are next to the fridge, and the mugs are in the cabinet above and two doors to the right of the spoons." Lex glanced behind him and saw Clark standing in the doorway, still in full Superman regalia. "I just got back and I heard you walking around in here; I thought you might need some help finding things," he explained with a shrug. Clark was fairly reliably able to find things in the kitchen; he claimed that it was because he understood Gretchen's nonsensical organizational style, but Lex suspected that he just used X-ray vision and super-speed.

"Thanks," Lex said. Regardless of _how_ Clark was doing it, Lex did appreciate not having to rummage through every bit of storage space in the kitchen just to make himself a glass of hot chocolate.

"No problem," Clark said, pulling out one of the chairs at the kitchen table and sitting down. They had a dining room too, of course, but after the other two moved in, Conner had complained that it was way too formal for when he just wanted to get a sandwich, and Clark hadn't actually _said_ anything, but he had _looked_ at Lex when Conner said it, and the next day a table and chairs had appeared in the kitchen. Lex had to admit, it was fairly convenient.

"Do you think I could get some of that?" Clark asked. Lex nodded and pulled a second mug out for him.

"So," Lex said as he was waiting for the milk to warm up, "busy night?" After all, Clark usually got home around 12:30 – 1-ish.

"Sort of," Clark said. "A lot of activity, but a lot of the same stuff I usually deal with. Muggings, breaking and entering, an attempted rape, that kind of thing. A cat up a tree."

"You're joking," Lex said flatly. Not that he didn't believe that Clark would help a kitten up a tree, but it really seemed like a waste of Superman's time.

"I would never joke about a kitten in peril," Clark said. His voice was dead serious as he said it, but there was a twinkle in his eyes.

"Of course not," Lex said, playing along with the joke. "Forgive me for ever implying so."

Clark nodded solemnly and then began to earnestly wax poetical about his 'daring rescue' of the 'innocent and helpless kitten' from the 'misguided but ultimately well-meaning tree'. Lex bit the inside of his cheeks and tried not to laugh.

The hot chocolate was done in short order, but as Lex looked at the two mugs in front of him something felt wrong. Going on instinct, Lex walked back in the pantry and retrieved the bag of mini marshmallows. He put a handful in Clark's mug and, satisfied, he brought both drinks over to the table.

Clark smiled in surprise. "How did you know I liked marshmallows in my cocoa?"

"It just seemed right," Lex replied, faintly uncomfortable. He didn't particularly like discussing his memory quirks.

"He probably remembered it," said a sleepy voice in the doorway. Startled, the two men turned to see Conner standing there in his pajamas, his eyes not quite half-closed.

"Conner," Lex admonished. "You're supposed to be in bed."

"I was, but I couldn't sleep. I heard you guys talking and then I smelled the cocoa." Conner gave them a piteous look.

Lex shot a quick glance at Clark to let him know that Lex was going to let him field this one – they had gotten really good at the whole parental 'talking without speaking' thing. Clark sighed. "Do you have any tests tomorrow?"

"No," said Conner.

"Fine," Clark said. "One glass, and then straight to bed."

"Okay," Conner agreed happily. Lex handed him his as-of-yet undrunk from mug; he could get another one for himself. Conner murmured his thanks, looked at his hot chocolate, looked at Clark's, and looked at Lex again. "Marshmallows?"

Lex rolled his eyes, but walked back over to the kitchen counter and grabbed the bag of marshmallows and tossed them to Conner. Conner proceeded to dump a covering of marshmallows two layers deep on his hot chocolate before tossing the bag back to Lex to put away. Then he promptly sat down on the floor next to Clark's chair and rested his head against Clark's thigh.

"There are other chairs," Clark said with some amusement, but his free hand gave lie to his words, coming to rest in Conner's hair.

"I like it here better," Conner responded.

"It does seem like a nice spot," Lex called out in agreement from the pantry. Of course he'd rather be sitting _in_ Clark's lap than next to it, straddling it really, both of them naked, and –

And that was really a train of thought best left for later, when Conner wasn't in the room. Clark too probably, since Lex had yet to confirm whether or not Clark was attracted to men. And while, if Clark did turn out to be completely straight, Lex didn't exactly think the other man would turn tail in a homophobic panic if he found out Lex had some very impure thoughts about that chiseled physique of his, things were bound to get awkward. It wasn't worse risking their friendship, not until Lex got a better read on whether or not Clark was having impure thoughts himself.

Lex walked out of the pantry to be greeted by the sight of Conner grinning up at him, and Clark blushing furiously. Hmm, curious.

"So Conner," Clark said in a 'please, God, let's change the subject' tone of voice, "you said you think Lex is getting his memories back?"

Conner shook his head. "No, I didn't say he was getting his memories back, I just said I thought he remembered something." Ineloquently stated, but Lex couldn't deny the accuracy of it.

Clark blinked. "You want to run that by me again?"

"Sometimes you just remember things," Conner said with a shrug. "Like the first time when I met Martha and she rubbed her shoulder and I said sorry? Cause I remembered it was my fault she got hurt, even though I still don't actually remember what I did." Conner shot a mild rebuking glare at Clark, as though Conner thought he should be told what he had done. Lex, who _had_ heard the story, fully approved of Clark's decision to not tell Conner.

"That's interesting," Lex commented, mixing his hot chocolate and coming to sit at the table with Clark and Conner. "Given that our amnesias had different causes, I wouldn't necessarily expect us to have the same kinds of reactions. I wonder if whatever it was that caused your spontaneous memory loss is somehow related to, or effects the brain in the same way as, the neurotoxin Tess used on me."

"So, wait. You've been remembering things all along?" Clark asked. "Why didn't you mention it?"

"They were just little things." Lex said. "The first time I called you up on the phone, for example, I dialed your number without even realizing I knew it; I didn't think it was important, and I didn't particularly feel like talking about it."

"Will you tell us some other things you remember?" said Conner, looking up at Lex with puppy dog eyes.

Lex wasn't sure why Conner would want to know about the little details that had somehow made it through his brain's filter, but it was nearly impossible to say no to those eyes. He racked his brains for something Conner might find interesting. They really were mostly small things, like that Clark liked marshmallows in his hot chocolate, or looking at Oliver Queen, knowing next to nothing about him, and thinking he was an utter bastard, or waking up to Tess's dead body and _knowing_ this woman was responsible for him not being able to remember anything. "Oh, here's something," Lex replied after a minute. "I'm sure I've mentioned before that Clark's reporter suits are horrible, which I know," Lex said, holding up his hands to forestall Clark's protests, "are meant as a disguise. But there are a fair number of other people I have to deal with that aren't doing much better, and don't have the same excuse."

"We can't all have your fashion sense," Clark commented dryly and Conner snickered. Lex shot Clark a quick glare, and then decided to take it as a compliment.

"True enough I suppose. The point being, sometimes to help me deal with the sheer awfulness of it, I picture everyone in –"

"Their underwear?" Clark guessed.

"Of course not," Lex said. "As pleasing an image that might be on some people, there are any number that I would _pay_ not to see them in their underwear. No, I picture everyone in well-tailored suits."

Clark snorted. "Oh, see that sounds like something you would do. But what does it have to do with you remembering things?"

"What it has to do with it, is that no matter what I tried to picture you in, my mental image of you always wanted to wear jeans and plaid flannel shirts. Usually in blue or red," Lex said, with a pointed look at Clark's brightly colored Superman uniform.

Clark grinned. "What can I say, I know what I like."

"Obviously," Lex replied.

Clark chuckled and then glanced down at Conner to see his reaction. Conner, however, was sitting with his mug clasped loosely in his hand and his eyes shut tight. "Conner? You still awake?"

"'M awake Dad," Conner answered sleepily.

"Good, then you can get yourself to bed," Clark said.

Conner's eyes blinked open. "But I haven't finished-"

"Bed, now," Clark said firmly.

"Okay, okay," Conner said, getting up and placing his half-full mug on the table. He yawned hugely, and then slowly plodded out of the room. Clark stared after him, eyes getting that distant look they had when he was using one of his vision tricks.

Lex waited quietly for Clark's attention to return to him, sipping at his hot chocolate. "He made it to his bed," Clark said a few moments later. "I half-thought he was going to fall down asleep in the middle of the hallway."

"Because carrying a sixteen year old boy twenty feet to his bed would be so difficult for someone who can stop a runaway train with his bare hands."

"Good point," Clark said, grinning. "But I'm feeling lazy. So do you think he was right?"

"Right about what?" Lex said.

"About the things you're remembering not actually being related to you getting your memories back," Clark said.

"Oh that," Lex said. "Yes, I'm fairly certain he's right. I still remember new things from time to time, but they're always things that I theoretically could have known all along. For example, it's possible that, had someone asked me how Clark Kent liked his hot chocolate immediately after my memory loss, I could have told him, but I didn't know that because it's never been relevant before now."

Clark considered that for a minute or so before nodding. "Makes sense. Ah, Lex?" he said, looking a bit reluctant. "Maybe this is a rude question but do you… Do you actually want to get your memories back? It's only, I would have assumed you would, but I haven't seen you do anything to try and get them back."

"I have actually, back when I first lost them," Lex told him. "The doctors ran all kinds of scans on my brain, PET scans, CAT scans, MRIs, fMRIs, even EEGs, though I don't know what they thought they were going to accomplish with those. They weren't able to turn up anything abnormal." Well, technically Lex's brain showed symptoms of a chronically high cortisol levels, including a slightly hyperactive amygdala, and there was some light scarring to the pre-frontal cortex as well, but none of that would have caused total amnesia, so Lex felt justified in keeping it to himself. Besides, Clark would probably just find some way to blame himself for it. "We would have tried to create an antidote from the neurotoxin, assuming that's even possible, but Tess took all the samples Summerholt had with her, and destroyed all the files relating to it."

"Oh," Clark said. "I didn't know. If you want, I could try talking to Jor-El for you. I mean, I already asked him right after I found out what happened and he said he wouldn't help, but I could try bullying him into it, that works sometimes."

Lex regarded Clark with some surprise. When Clark had first found out… the two of them hadn't been on even remotely good terms then. As a matter of fact, Lex hadn't known who Clark was back when Clark would have first found out. "Thank you," Lex said sincerely, "but I think I'll pass." He drummed his fingers on the table a few times in a burst of nervous energy. "Actually could you… no, no, it's fine."

Clark tilted his head to the side, looking like nothing so much as a confused puppy. It served as an odd juxtaposition with the Superman outfit. "I don't understand. Did you want your memories back or not?"

"Would you believe me if I said I didn't know?" Lex asked.

"But why wouldn't you want to get your memories back?" Clark asked, and then he winced. "That's not what I meant. I mean yeah, that's what I meant to ask, just sounding genuinely curious, not like I was judging you or thought you were wrong for feeling that way or anything. Uh, yeah."

Lex bit back a smile. He normally didn't like to use 'adorable[' as a descriptor, but sometimes it really was the only word that fit.

Of course, once he got past Clark's flustered presentation to the actual content of the words, any urge to smile dropped off. This was exactly the kind of conversation about memories and identity that Lex _didn't_ want to have. Though, if there ever was a time to have it, it was probably in the middle of the night with his best friend, one of the only two people in the world that Lex found himself trusting implicitly. Even if Lex did still somewhat wish he could also be drunk on something a little more than hot chocolate and lack of sleep.

"What it comes down to," Lex said, resigning himself to it, "is I like the way things are now." Granted he hadn't quite reached his ideal yet – he had his eye on the Oval Office, and would really like this co-parent thing between him and Clark to come to its logical conclusion, at least once or twice – but if this is where he ended up plateauing at for the rest of his life, he could be satisfied with that. "My life is good and I'm…" Lex paused searching for the word for how he was feeling. There was one for it, he knew, but it somehow always seemed to want to sit stubbornly on the tip of his tongue.

"Happy?" Clark suggested.

"Yes, exactly, and that right there is the problem." God, who the fuck couldn't come up with the word 'happy'?

"Lex, it's not a bad thing to be happy," Clark said, slightly hesitant, but as though there might be a real concern that Lex felt that way. And thank you Clark, for proving Lex's point.

"No, the bad thing is that apparently my life before all this was so horrible that the word 'happy' isn't even a part of my mental lexicon," Lex corrected. "One has to wonder if those kinds of memories are even worth having. And beyond that," because not wanting the memories in and of themselves, didn't necessarily mean that he shouldn't get them back, "there is a very real possibility that if I _did_ get them back, I would end up going right back to the exact same mindset I had before I lost them. Which, as I said, I very empathetically do not want. Even if that means that, at the end of the day, I'm not really me." After all, who was a person really, if not a collection of memories of the things they've done and the places they've been?

"Lex-" Clark started to say, distressed, but Lex continued right over him. If he was going to have to say this, he damn well was going to get it all off his chest.

"The flip side of that is that not getting my memories back might actually be what sets me back down that path. You can't learn from your mistakes if you don't remember them. Besides," he said, flashing a smile at Clark, "I have it on good authority that there are some really good memories mixed in there with the bad."

Clark smiled back, but he seemed half-hearted about it. He stared at his empty mug for a bit, but eventually he sighed and looked back up at Lex. "Honestly, I don't know what to tell you about your memories. I know I have things in my head that I'd love to be able to forget, but there's things in there I wouldn't give up for the world too. But I can tell you this; you're still you. And I don't know why you won't believe me when I tell you that, but you are more than just your memories. You're smart Lex, really, really smart. And brave, so much more than I am. And loyal, almost scarily so. You hate junk food and love cars; specifically fast, slick, European ones. You reference Ancient History, especially Greco-Roman, in conversation as much as possible, even when it's not entirely appropriate or relevant. You're an amazing drawer, a phenomenal piano player, a talented scientist, and a brilliant pool player. You're too ambitious for your own good, arrogant, and a firm proponent of the saying 'If you want something done right, do it yourself.' Secretly, you're a little disappointed that you weren't able to match Alexander the Great and be ruler of the known world by the time you were thirty. You don't like to let people in because you know once you lower that first wall, they'll all come crashing down and you'll end up leaving yourself wide open to be hurt." Clark's eyes met Lex's, crystal green blazing with emotion and sincerity, piercing Lex right down deep to his soul. "You would do anything for the people you love. That's who you are Lex, memories or no."

Lex couldn't breathe for a second. When he finally managed to let out a slightly shaky exhalation, out with it went that knot that had been lodged in Lex's chest ever since that first moment when he realized that he didn't know who he was.

"Thank you," he said, though the words couldn't possibly begin encompass all that he was feeling. Clark grinned at him, a real one, bright like the sun coming out and –

Realization hit Lex like a car crash. Clark was _not_ just Lex's best friend, whose pants he would like to get into, and Lex did _not_ just care about Clark a lot; Lex was head-over-heels, ass-over-teakettle, free-falling without a parachute in love with Clark. And Lex had no _clue_ what he was supposed to do with that.

Clark, completely unaware of Lex's mental epiphany – or possibly mental break-down – blithely continued talking, picking up the hot chocolate mugs and taking them to the sink to rinse out. "Any time Lex. Really. And as far as you… falling back into old bad habits, you don't need to worry. Conner and I aren't going to let that happen."

"You aren't?" Lex echoed. Normally he probably wouldn't need to ask something like that – Conner obviously loved him and Clark, well you don't give a speech like that to someone who wasn't important to you – but Lex's world was more than a little tilted on his axis at the moment.

Clark put the mugs into the dishwasher and scoffed. "You know Lex, for such a genius you sure can be an idiot sometimes," he said seriously, but not without affection. "Of course we won't." Clark was standing in front Lex again, leaning forward with one hand on the back of Lex's chair, so their faces were right close together. Closer, Lex's brain helpfully supplied, than was entirely normal, even between close friends. "We love you."

Warm, soft pressure against his lips. Before Lex could even register what was going on, Clark pulled back, and, with a gentle smile, walked out of the room.

Lex didn't get any sleep that night.

* * *

Sequel is "Boys Can Be Really Stupid" (Story ID: 8831324)


End file.
